The big moments from Part 1 will always serve as some of the most monumental points in my life, and although I do not look back at them with fond memories, I know that they are part of our bigger story. After a year of trying, a near IVF cycle, our first ever pregnancy, and consequent loss, I was in a really weird place. That’s an understatement actually, I was extremely anxious, devastated and angry, but I kept on going through the motions. The motions of traveling with Adam to tournaments, posting all of Brad’s hilarious antics on my social media, and maintaining the facade that things were status quo in our personal life. This facade held up pretty well in public while Adam and I dealt with the raw aftermath of the previous year privately together. The innocent questions of “when are you guys going to have kids”, “do you have any children”, and “do you guys want kids” had already become a touchy subject for me, but after that first loss they felt particularly cruel. Logically, I knew that people had no idea what we had been going through and that these questions were considered completely socially acceptable, but they really started to wear on me. One such moment that really stands out to me was when I drug myself out for the first time and went to dinner with some acquaintances who were unaware of our pregnancy trials. A brand new adorable baby was placed in my arms, and I did all the right things. I ooh’d and ahh’d at the cute tiny new human, and I thought maybe I was really making some emotional headway in the healing process. I thought that until the unknowing, proud mommy of the new squish said something like “you look pretty comfortable doing that, careful or you might be having your own soon”. It was a joke, an innocent playful comment, and I knew it, but I took it as a direct knife to the chest. I politely handed the baby off to someone else as soon as the opportunity arose, and I went to the bathroom for a quick angry cry. I composed myself and returned to the dinner party like nothing happened.
Moments like these continued but they became less emotionally upsetting and instead propelled me into a sort of numbness surrounding the baby topic. Each week got a little better, a little more numb, and I found myself at the US Open actually, dare I say, enjoying myself? We had rented a cute little cottage where we enjoyed the nice weather and leisurely walks with Brad each evening. This brings me to the next big moment in our fertility story that coincides with yet another golf Major. Despite telling myself I would never “pee on another stick” after our first loss, old habits die hard, and I dug out that last pink and white wrapper from my toiletry bag. I told myself I would just double check that all of the pregnancy hormone was officially out of my system, but then I saw two strong pink lines. After a minute of staring in disbelief, I walked out where Adam sat in the dining room at the rental. I had a brief moment where I stood looking at him in his complete obliviousness and almost envied him, and then I matter-of-factly said, “apparently I’m pregnant again”. His response was about as muted as mine and I sat on his lap with anxious tears in my eyes trying to understand what just happened. We had tried for a year, tracking every little thing before we got pregnant the first time, and now I was pregnant again, just a couple months later after not putting any real thought into it. Then I started laughing. It was comical. All I needed to do was just finally relax and let nature happen like everyone loves to tell women struggling. I was getting my rainbow baby, and I had only had to wait a couple months for it to happen. I wish I could say that Maddox; the light of our life, the baby girl that healed our pain, the rainbow baby we desperately wanted was born 9 months after the US open, but that is not how this chapter ends.
To Be Continued.
Jessica